Sometimes I think I can dream
by Dana Norram
Summary: Everybody wants to have somebody come back for them. Spoilers for all of season one. / SLASH / DarylxGlenn / ONESHOT


**Title:** Sometimes (I think I can dream)  
><strong>Rating: <strong>NC-17  
><strong>Pairingcharacter(s):** Daryl/Glenn, ensemble  
><strong>Word count:<strong> ~18,000 (complete)  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Nothing is mine, except for the (really large amount of) gay porn.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Everybody wants to have somebody come back for them. Spoilers for all of season one.  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> Bad words about not bad people, bodily secretions and (tons of) sex. Not necessarily in that order.  
><strong>Notes:<strong> I planned to write porn _with_ plot, but I guess I ended up with the porn only. Hmm, sorry? Title from _If You Wanna I Might_, by Hellogoodbye. One more thing: I read a couple of issues from the TWD comics, so there are some (really) vague references, but that's all.  
><strong>Thanks to:<strong> laria_gwyn (_laria_gwyn. livejournal. com_), who is a saint, hands down. She made this a lot clear and so much better. Remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone.

* * *

><p><strong>Sometimes (I think I can dream)<strong>  
>by Dana Norram<p>

* * *

><p>Some things don't change.<p>

It doesn't matter that the whole world went crazy and that people are now wandering around chewing other people up. You still need to eat. You still need to sleep. You need some company. Even if you don't get to live the way you did before, you still need those things, so you can at least try to survive. Daryl has his brother, he has his crossbow and he can shoot things up, so they get to eat. They watch each other's back so one of them can get his sleep and they keep on surviving.

Merle isn't an easy guy. Never was, Daryl knows that. But he's glad they have each other now. For awhile he thought he'd never see his brother again. Life had kept them apart. The dead brought them back together and Daryl's glad he gets to survive along with his brother. Merle doesn't get along with many people. He has his temper, his condition. But Daryl can handle both. It had never been a big problem before, before they could afford to be on their own.

Some things don't change, yes. But some things _do_ get worse.

The geeks doubled, tripled, and they're now too many for his crossbow and for Merle's rifle. They had made their way to Atlanta and when they ran into this surveying group, they decided to stick around. There are now too many mouths for his crossbow to feed, but there are more pairs of eyes to watch over his sleep. Many different pairs of eyes, yes, but Daryl doesn't hate people as his brother seems to do. He loves his brother, yes, but he's just glad there are a few more people _alive_.

Even if a lot of them are Blacks or Latinos or Asians.

Well, one Asian only, actually.

To tell the truth, Daryl never had problems with Asian people. He had met very few of them, actually. There had been this family in his town. They had had a daughter who used to be the first one in Daryl's class, back then. She went to some fancy school out of the state to study to be a doctor after she graduated. She was cute, too, he remembers, even if it was in an Asian sort of way. Daryl has no idea if she's still around. Maybe she's working on this thing, trying to control it, to beat it. Maybe she's now wandering in the streets, trying to bite people.

Glenn looks smart, too. Not the doctor kind. More like those sidekicks in the superhero' movies Daryl used to watch when his girl couldn't talk them into seeing some romantic comedy bullshit. The kind of sidekick nobody gives a crap about who ends up saving the superhero's sorry ass at the last minute.

He's just a kid, though, Daryl thinks. He's just a kid and he does more than half of their group. Glenn leaves the safety of camp for several hours and goes to the city, and he comes back bringing supplies. Glenn is just like him, Daryl assumes. He doesn't stop, he's always doing something. Daryl doesn't know what kind of life the kid had before all this, but whatever it was, it taught him to do his part and Daryl appreciates this kind of people, doesn't matter what they look like. Daryl leaves the camp, too, to hunt, sometimes for a whole day or two. Sometimes Merle tags along, other times his brother stayed in the camp in order to fix up their truck, their tent. Sometimes Merle has a bad day and Daryl is afraid to leave him alone. Not just for Merle's sake.

On one particular day, though, his brother is feeling okay and he decides to stay and Daryl is halfway down the mountain when he hears a shout behind him.

"Hey!" Glenn breathes as he catches up with him. "You're going hunting." It's not a question.

Daryl nods, but doesn't say a thing. He and Merle have been in the camp for almost two weeks now. Daryl doesn't talk much. He knows people think he's just like his brother and he hasn't bothered to contradict them just yet. Daryl thinks it's easier this way. He's glad they're alive and all, but he doesn't want to get attached to these people and then have to watch them die eventually. Like he's had to do with his friends, his girl, his folks back home.

Glenn is not like the others, though. The kid doesn't push things. He doesn't try to make friends. He's nice and polite, does his part and knows how to keep it together. He seems like a good guy. It wouldn't hurt to be polite to him in return, Daryl considers, when he decides to open his mouth.

"Yeah, I-" Daryl replies a few seconds later, as they walk side by side down the mountain. "We could use some fresh meat, y' know." He smirks and Glenn shakes his head in agreement.

"I'm going for supplies. Blankets, toilet paper, stuff like that." He shudders, sticking his hands into his pockets. His empty backpack wiggles behind him.

Daryl doesn't know what else to say. Truth is, he isn't used to being nice to people who are so different from him. He forces a little smile and nods again, avoids Glenn's eyes. They stay silent for a minute or two until he hears the kid clearing his throat. Daryl looks back at him.

"Do you, hmm, do you need anything?" Glenn asks, staring straight forward so Daryl can't see his eyes. "From Atlanta, I mean." Daryl thinks he catches a bit of a stutter in his voice, but he's probably wrong. The kid probably is panting for the walk, that's all. Glenn doesn't have a reason to be nervous around him, does he?

"Hmm," Daryl starts to say. He runs a hand over his jaw, trying to think of something. His stubble's starting to itch, he notices. Well, why not. "Some shavin' cream would be nice, I guess."

Glenn nods and tips his baseball cap as he turns his back. They go their separate ways. Daryl catches himself smiling a bit. He realizes it later, but he shakes it off when he draws out his crossbow and hits a rabbit.

**oOo**

Daryl makes it back before Glenn.

He has been out for a whole day and night is already falling over the camp once he steps in. He vaguely wonders if the kid had a gun with him. He can't remember Glenn shooting anything and his backpack had looked pretty empty. He thinks that nobody deserves to be out there, in the dark, with nothing but the walkers for company. Daryl looks around as he and Merle clean off the half-dozen rabbits he had brought back. Nobody looks worried. They're all busy, looking over their husbands, wives, sons, daughters and friends. Though they all seem to like Glenn, he isn't their first concern. Neither is he Daryl's, but, well, Daryl wonders. The little man is completely alone.

"The Asian kid should have been back by now," he says to nobody in particular, but Merle frowns at his words.

"Ha, why do you care?" He grins as he disembowels a third rabbit with his knife. His hands are bloody and Daryl feels a little sick. He remembers when a bunch of walkers took his girl and two of his friends. He remembers the blood and the guts. Their dying screams. He has never heard Glenn even raise his voice. He can't imagine the kid screaming for his life.

"I don't." Daryl shudders. "'Just think it's weird."

Merle doesn't say another word, though he casts him a few weird looks, between gutting the two rabbits. Daryl ignores it. He doesn't care. He just thinks that the kid doesn't have anyone and that isn't easy. It just feels like the right thing to do. To worry about him. Someone should.

When Glenn finally arrives, two and a half hours later, the stew is already boiling. Daryl notices him before the rest of the camp does and lets out a sigh of relief. He's glad Merle went to get some water, because when Glenn drops his full backpack at Moralles' feet, he heads directly in Daryl's direction. The kid has something in his hand and Daryl bites down a grin as he realizes what it is.

"It smells good," Glenn says by way of greeting.

"'Took your time down there, kid," Daryl replies, checking on the bowl over the fire.

"Well," Glenn says. He sits by Daryl's side. "Took me awhile to find it." He hands Daryl a new bottle of shaving cream. It still has the seal on it. "Hope this one is okay. It's the only one they had at the store."

Daryl stares at the bottle. He feels his throat shut. "Hmm, thanks," he finally manages.

Glenn smiles. "Hell with your thanks. Give me some of this stew. I'm starving."

Daryl feels grateful when he overhears Merle shouting at someone and he has an excuse to get up and do something rather than sit there, not knowing how to deal with the creepy warm feeling that has started to build up inside his gut.

**oOo**

Some things do change, Daryl realizes.

It doesn't matter if he doesn't get to worry anymore about running his dad's ranch. Finding and marrying the right girl and having a couple of kids. It all stayed in the past. Why should they worry about preserving the human race so the walkers could feed on what's left of them? Daryl doesn't get to plan ahead anymore, but then, none of them do.

He stays awake while his brother sleeps, he hunts and he cooks rabbits, squirrels and, when he gets very lucky, a deer and he sits tight and does his part and breaks up fights between Merle and the rest of the camp. He watches in silence as Glenn teaches the little ones to make a kite. And Daryl groans under his breath when the new guy, Shane, shows up and tells Glenn he doesn't think it's such a good idea to put the kite in the air.

Sometimes, Daryl jerks off.

It isn't about the immediate bliss, though. Not only the immediate bliss, anyway. Daryl has a wank every now and then because he likes not having to think about the world going crazy, even if it's just for a fading moment. When he is almost, _almost_ there, his mind goes blank for a second, half a second, and then he's back at the ranch, sitting on the porch drinking a beer and eyeing that smart Asian girl riding her bicycle down to the store. The wind messing with her shiny, pitch black hair.

Daryl is having a nice, long wank the day he overhears something in the woods. He grunts, his cock pulsing hard against his fingers and he stops, trying to figure out where it came. That's the problem with having personal time. He can't shoot his crossbow with just one arm and he won't ask Merle to watch his back when he wants to get his rocks off. He's not that weird.

"Who's there?" Daryl calls out, but hears nothing but the wind whispering against the leaves. "_Fuck_." He grunts again and takes a deep breath. He needs to finish now or just let it go. And he has gone too freaking far to let it go. "'Kind of busy over here."

And then he hears it again. There's definitely something there. Daryl swears one more time and gets up from the rock he had been leaning against. He zippers his pants and draws out his crossbow, aiming a few yards down to his right, where the noise came from. He takes three steps and overhears a different sound; a muffling of fabric, maybe? Daryl speeds up and catches a glimpse of clothing between the trees. Well, whoever it is, they are trying to sneak away. Daryl considers letting them go, but they shouldn't have come here in the first goddamn place. He feels his sore balls inside his pants.

"Stop right there or I'll shoot. Don't care who you are, just turn real slowly."

Daryl can hear heavy breathing, now. Whoever it is, they are panting hard. Maybe it's a walker, but a walker wouldn't just do as they're told. Maybe it's one of the little kids, they could have got themselves lost. Daryl chews on his lower lip and he waits. At first, it seems to take forever, but with a rush of green from the brush and the blue flash of a T-shirt, he recognizes Glenn's small features. Daryl lets out another grunt.

The kid has his hands covering his own crotch, his face is bright red and even with his hat covering his eyes, Daryl can tell that Glenn looks absolutely mortified. Daryl rests his crossbow against his trembling leg and lets out the breath he didn't even realize he had been holding back.

"_Fuck_, kid," he hisses out. "What the fuck you think you're doin'?"

Glenn says nothing, but Daryl notices as the kid tries to makes himself small. Glenn drops his head and presses a hand against his pants harder, like he's trying to hide something. Daryl frowns. Something isn't right. Millions of crazy thoughts hit him. Did Glenn steal something from someone at the camp? Did he saw a geek and pissed in his pants?

"Kid, I asked you a question, what are you-?"

It's when he reaches for Glenn's arm and pulls. Daryl understands the minute he sees it. There are fresh, dark spots on Glenn's pants, just around his groin. It doesn't look like piss, though. Doesn't smell like it. And Daryl has a very good sense of smell. Whatever it is, it smells like, like-

Fuck.

His eyes grow wider when it finally sinks in. The kid has just _come in his pants_. Daryl shakes his head, trying to wrap his mind around it and at first, he feels really confused. But he's not stupid and soon he feels very, _very_ angry.

"_What_-" He chokes a bit. "You're watchin' _me_, Chinaman? What you thinkin', you, Jesus! Ain't you a fucking f-"

Daryl stops before he says the word, though. He's really more upset about not having the chance to get himself off since that fucking kid apparently did and at _his_ expense. He sure as hell doesn't know what to do about it. It isn't like Daryl will shoot the kid. How would he explain that, back at the camp? And, well, it isn't even something that he feels someone _should_ get shot for, anyway.

Merle would disagree, of course. Merle would grab the kid's pitch black hair, drag him over the dirt, break half of his teeth and then beat him to death. Daryl wonders what he should do. But he's not Merle. He's not. He closes his eyes and tries to think, but all he can think about is his aching cock trapped inside his pants and Glenn watching him and, _Jesus Christ_, the world is so fucking unfair.

"Sorry." He overhears Glenn mumbling. "'m sorry, man, I swear I won't tell anyone, just let me-"

"Shut up." Daryl squeezes Glenn's arm and as he does it, his own body shifts and his cock twitches, impossibly harder inside his goddamn pants. Fuck, _fuck_, that fucking hurts. "Shit, kid. Just, just- _shut the hell up_, okay?" He shakes his head and he lets go of Glenn like the kid is electrified. "I- just go, go away, I need to-"

Daryl's hand fumbles as he takes a step back and tries really hard to not unzip his pants right there. He closes his eyes for a second, trying to catch his breath back, grabs the crossbow with his other hand and grips it hard. And Daryl only notices the kid hasn't left when he feels Glenn's fingers on his zipper.

He gasps, words failing him completely. Daryl wants to tell the kid to fuck the hell off. He wants to tell him to please hurry and get it over with.

Daryl doesn't say a thing, though. He hears Glenn's knees drop to the dirt and he closes his eyes when he feels slender, cool, and very uncertain hands unzipping him and grabbing his cock. He hisses through his teeth and lets out an absolutely embarrassing moan.

"_Fuck_." Daryl looks down. He can't see Glenn's face, still hidden behind that stupid hat of his, but he has a full view of his own cock being handled by those lean, shaky fingers. "Fuck," Daryl says again, lost and feeling his body responding immediately. Glenn grabs the base of his cock with his left hand, to keep Daryl still, and he uses his right to work on the gland, pressing a finger in the slit. Daryl has to bite the inside of his mouth not to yell.

The kid has obviously had a lot of practice, a thought that doesn't make this any easier to handle. He is a fucking man and having _another _man jerking him off isn't something Daryl should allow, let alone enjoy. Daryl shivers as he watches Glenn spit on his fingers to make them slide better against the feverish skin. He fights back every sound that tries to makes its way out of his mouth. He doesn't say, _yeah, fuck, just like that_ when Glenn's fingers touch his sore balls, caressing them, but he does want to. He wants it bad. Daryl tries not to move towards the kid's hands, tries not to show how much he's liking it.

But when Glenn's hat falls off and Daryl gets a full view of Glenn's lips too fucking close, he just can't fight the urge to grab the kid by that pitch black, shiny hair, and to force himself down Glenn's throat. The kid stops him just in time, but he doesn't run away or bite him or anything like that. Glenn grabs Daryl by his waist, instead, to make him still. Then he licks the pre-come on the tip, like he's fucking _savoring_ it. Daryl tries to distract himself or he knows he will come on the spot. He tries to focus on feeling how soft the hair between his fingers is and he lets out a suffocated gasp. Daryl watches as Glenn seems done with the teasing and swallows half of his cock at once. Suddenly Daryl can't feel the ground beneath his feet and he decides that it would be an amazingly good idea if he could just keep _breathing_.

It had been _ages _since he got himself a blowjob and, Jesus fucking Christ, he had missed it. It's so good to feel someone wrapping a warm tongue around him, to have a hand massaging his balls. In that godforsaken world it feels like paradise and Daryl only realizes he has started to moan out loud when he notices Glenn doing the exact same thing. He stares down and feels something hit him hard in the gut, because the kid has him fully inside his mouth and using a free hand, Glenn has started to jerk himself off. Again. It's like the kid can't get enough of Daryl, of Daryl's scent, Daryl's _taste_. It's like he's having the time of his life. It's too fucking much.

"_Shit_-" Daryl tries to hold it back, he really, really does, but he has just enough time to push the kid off and then he comes hard, almost painfully hard, some of his cum hitting Glenn on his face, over that bright, soft hair.

Panting, Daryl stares at Glenn as he gives himself a few more pulls and comes, too, all over his slender fingers. Daryl watches it drip over the kid's pants and on the dirt. Daryl just watches because he doesn't know what he wants to do. He knows he _should_ zip up his pants, grabs his crossbow and take off. It would be the smarter thing to do, he thinks.

So he does. Daryl walks away and he doesn't look back.

And it would be okay, it would be just something to feel slightly embarrassed about, something he would eventually forget once he finally meets and marries the right girl. The only problem is, that in this world, the right girl, if she is very, _very_ lucky, is probably dead by now.

Daryl knows he should just forget about it. And he thinks he probably would have, if it hadn't happened again.

And again and again.

**oOo**

It does feel like an arrangement, in the beginning.

It isn't smart for anyone to wander off alone and god forbid a walker decides to climb up the mountain, Daryl doesn't want to be the one caught with his pants down. It's easier to have someone do the job so he has his hands free, his crossbow by his side, his eyes alert as they can be while having someone else's tongue on his cock.

They don't talk about it, of course.

Glenn is true to his word and he doesn't say anything back at the camp. He acts like nothing happened and he treats Daryl like he always did. Daryl tries to do the same and he thinks he succeeds. He thinks he catches Merle staring at him one afternoon with a funny look on his face, but again, it could be just the sun, because his brother says nothing. Merle has been in a good mood and Daryl doesn't have to worry about him too much these days.

The next time Daryl wanders into the woods, two days after, he is pretty sure he has been followed, only this time he doesn't raise his crossbow when he overhears the noise. He and Glenn stare at each other and as if there's a mutual understanding the kid is on his knees a moment later and Daryl grabs his black hair between his fingers. And, after Daryl is finished, he only watches as Glenn jerks himself off. He tries to say to himself he is merely doing his part, making sure the kid isn't interrupted as he does his business, but Daryl knows he doesn't really mind being there. He hates himself for that, later, so he just tries not to think about it.

During the fifth time they're doing it, almost on a daily basis, Glenn doesn't let Daryl push him away when Daryl finds himself close, so the kid swallows down all of Daryl's cum, coming himself only a few seconds later, his tongue licking his lips clean as he wipes his dirty fingers on the grass, before he zips himself up.

"It's better this way," says Glenn out loud, then, and Daryl stops in his tracks. It is the first time that either of them has said a word on the matter. He looks down at Glenn, who just shudders like he isn't saying anything out of the ordinary. "It's a pain having to wash it off my hair every single time."

Daryl blinks. He grunts a '_whatever_' before he takes off.

The sixth time they meet out in the woods, however, Daryl brings a canteen full of fresh water and a piece of washcloth along with him.

**oOo**

Apart from having someone to blow him, Daryl's routine doesn't change, much.

He still goes out and hunts and he watches the perimeter at night, so his brother can get his sleep. Of course he isn't doing this for Merle alone, but Daryl tries not to think too much about it, because he will start to notice how his eyes dart in Glenn's direction every now and then, and that probably would be bad.

Glenn is a good guy, though. He doesn't try to push whatever it is that they're doing. Not once has he tried to have Daryl touch him more than strictly necessary and Daryl is glad for it. He doesn't want to end their arrangement, but he doesn't know what he would do if the kid asked for a blowjob, too. There are _boundaries_, after all.

It's been one and a half weeks since he caught Glenn watching him when Daryl gets back from a hunt with a deer on his shoulders, and finds out that the camp just got three new members: an old man named Dale, who owns a trailer, and two sisters, Andrea and Amy.

Daryl catches Merle eyeing the older sister like most of the camp had looked at the deer he had dropped on the dirt once he arrived. The look in his eyes was unmistakably hungry. Daryl tries to locate Glenn, but he's nowhere to be found. He supposes the kid has probably gone down to the city to grab a few supplies.

It's funny, really. It seems to be another arrangement Daryl hadn't been informed about. Because, every time he goes hunting, the kid disappears from the camp as well. Daryl tries not to be too worried about the fact that he thinks it is nice and goes down to the quarry to wash the deer's blood off his shirt and arms.

Later, when they're preparing and salting the meat, Daryl sees Merle leering at the girls' group. They have their backs to them and as Andrea bends over to grab a box, Merle's grin goes wider.

"How about that, little brother." He laughs aloud. "Looks like fate's smilin' on the Dixons again. Two little yellow birds just happen to find this camp? What y' say?"

Daryl says nothing. The thought did cross his mind, of course. Amy looks so freaking much like the right girl. Young, pretty, perky, fragile. _White_. The kind of girl his parents would have loved him to bring home.

"Yeah," he says since Merle keeps staring at him, waiting for an answer. "They look nice."

"_Nice_? You fuckin' with me? It's Christmas come early, my man, and Santa got my gift wrapped and ready for me to open and-"

Daryl is saved from hearing the rest of Merle's sentence by a disturbance at the entrance of the camp. It's getting darker by the minute and he only recognizes Glenn once he gets closer. There are half a dozen people surrounding him and Daryl's heart skips a beat when he sees Glenn is injured, blood dripping all over his right arm, near his shoulder. He's trying to say something, but everybody is talking at the same time and pointing at his arm and all the blood and saying things like oh my god, _he's infected_ and what are we going to do and-

"Hey!" Daryl shouts. "Would you shut the fuck up? The kid is trying to talk here."

Shane, T-Dog, Moralles and the others fall silent, probably because they are surprised by his outburst than anything else. Glenn looks so grateful and it's then that Daryl realizes the kid has lost his baseball cap. He looks so strange without it. Something really bad must have happened for him to leave it behind.

"I didn't get bitten, _stop freaking out_." Glenn's voice is firm, but Daryl can sense the weakness in it. "It's a clean cut, look." He tries to wipe the blood away and, indeed, it's a pretty clean cut, like it was made by some kind of blade. Nothing like a walker's bite, definitely. Thankfully. "I just got cut on a piece of glass when I was leaving a building, then I wrapped it with my shirt and ran off so the walkers wouldn't have time to smell it. It loosened up on my way here, so will you please quit staring and help me stitch this thing up?"

Nobody seems to want to. Daryl feels the kid's gaze on him and swears under his breath and goes to get a needle and hot water by the fire. Merle isn't paying attention, busy looking in Andrea's direction. Daryl gathers everything he thinks could be useful and gets back to where Glenn is, grabbing his bleeding arm and bracing himself against a tree. Daryl hands him a piece of cloth.

"Press it against your arm. Here-" Daryl shows him how. "I'm gonna need some light if you want me to do this right, so lemme start a fire first."

Glenn nods and does as he is told. Once the fire starts to grow, Daryl checks on his wound, but it starts to bleed the second he lifts the cloth. Daryl frowns and checks Glenn's temperature. The kid doesn't feel too hot, which is good, but the bleeding isn't stopping, which is bad. He probably isn't using enough pressure, since the kid lost all that blood. He must be feeling really weak. It's really a miracle he didn't pass out along the way. Daryl swears again and crouches in front of Glenn, pressing against the wound himself, hard. Glenn hisses through his teeth. He squeezes his eyes shut, but he doesn't complain.

"Sorry," says Daryl and he means it. "Got to stop the bleeding if you want to me to stitch it, okay?"

Glenn nods, his eyes still closed. They stay silent for a few minutes, Daryl checking on the wound from time to time, until the bleeding finally seems to stop. Daryl cleans it with warm water and realizes with a smile it isn't as deep as he thought it was.

"Look," he says and Glenn opens his eyes. "It isn't that bad, right?" The kid stares at him, then down to his wound. He nods and tries to smile but it's a weak version of one. "So." Daryl licks his lips. "I'm going to start and- it's probably going to hurt, but just try not to move, 'kay?"

Daryl gets his flask, filled with bourbon, and makes the kid drink some of it. Glenn makes a face, but doesn't spit it out. Daryl pours some over the wound and Glenn hisses and shuts his eyes again, but he doesn't move. Daryl gets the needle he's been keeping in the hot water, cleans it with bourbon and does the same with his hands. Then, as an afterthought, he gets a new piece of cloth and shoves it inside Glenn's mouth. Glenn's brown eyes grow wider and Daryl feels bad for him.

"Don't move," he repeats and with a deep breath, Daryl starts to stitch.

It seems to take forever. Shane and Moralles come by to check on them, but they leave as soon as they hear the girls starting to argue with Merle. Daryl shakes his head, trying to concentrate on his task, promising himself he will keep a closer eye on Merle, otherwise his brother will probably get them kicked out. Glenn has his eyes open the entire time, staring at Daryl over his wound. He doesn't try to take the cloth out of his mouth, blinking back tears every time Daryl inserts the needle into his skin. Daryl wants to say he's sorry every single time, but he knows he's doing the kid a favor. Nobody else would want to get within ten feet of him until they're sure he's not infected.

When Daryl is finally done, the camp seems to have settled down; everyone's gathered around the fire to feed on the deer he had brought in earlier. Daryl thought how the hunt feels like happening in another life. He shakes his head and cleans off the residual blood around Glenn's stitches, pours a few drops of bourbon over it one more time, makes a bandage and, after thinking about it for a second, puts Glenn's arm in an improvised sling.

"It's not broken," Glenn states, frowning. His eyes are threatening to close.

"Don't want you messing with these stitches," Daryl snaps back, but he isn't mad. "I ain't your nurse."

They stare at each other. Daryl frowns until Glenn cracks a weak smile.

"Thanks, Daryl," the kid says before he blinks, his eyes starting to close.

Daryl hesitates for a moment, but then he gives Glenn a feeble slap on his cheek. "Hey, don't doze off on me, kid." Glenn looks at him, obviously more than ready to do exactly that. Daryl pities him, but he knows he can't let the kid sleep, not yet. "Come on. Stay up for a little bit more, would you? Let's get you somethin' to eat."

And even if Daryl had stayed up the night before, hunting, he also volunteers to watch the perimeter, along with the new guy, Dale. He sits by the fire, only embers by now, and doesn't have the heart to shove Glenn off when he feels the kid dropping his head on his shoulder.

**oOo**

The first time they _do_ it inside Glenn's tent happens exactly three days after his accident. They shouldn't, Daryl knows that, but Glenn insists. Well, implies it, at least. The day is just breaking and the kid opens his tent and stares at Daryl, who's standing only a few yards away, finishing with his watch. Glenn doesn't make a move, just looks up at him, but Daryl understands. He hasn't gotten off for almost a week and, well, if they are really quick, what's the harm.

Daryl fumbles with his zipper, trying to yank it down, so Glenn can pull his cock out. He supports himself on his elbows so he can look at Glenn's lips, working up and down on his cock, his injured arm just staying there, his left hand wrapped around the base so he can slide it inside his mouth without gagging. Daryl feels a familiar warm feeling building up inside him, from the tip of his toes all the way to his lungs as he slowly runs out of air. He feels something hard pressing against his thigh and he realizes it must be Glenn's dick.

_Shit_, Daryl thinks and tries to move his body aside just a little, but Glenn chooses that exact moment to start to lick his balls and Daryl momentarily forgets his own name.

He comes down Glenn's throat a couple of minutes later and he only remembers about Glenn's hard dick against his leg once he notices the kid is having real trouble taking care of himself using only his left hand. Daryl bites his lower lip at the view and grunts and thinks _hell with it _as he shoves Glenn's hand away and grasps the kid's aching cock.

Glenn's eyes go wider and a deep, harsh moan escapes from his swollen lips. Daryl tries not to think about having another's man dick between his fingers as he increases the pace, staring into Glenn's eyes, his eyelids slipping close. He watches when the kid bites on his lips, making them even more swollen and red than they were before. Daryl tries to ignore the growing heat between his fingers, the pulsing he can literally _see _in the artery that seems to threaten to burst out of the kid's neck.

It takes Glenn at least a minute to come. He snatches Daryl's fingers away at the last second and grabs his own cock to prevent his cum from hitting Daryl and Daryl doesn't know how he should feel about that. He doesn't give it too much thought, though.

Daryl is a little more concerned about the fact that the look on Glenn's face, right as he came, having Daryl's hand on him, is definitely one of the most stunning things he has ever seen.

**oOo**

Sometimes, Daryl dreams.

At least, sometimes Daryl remembers his dreams. He read somewhere that people dreamt every night, and that sometimes they just don't remember them. He read that everyone needs to dream, or they would all go crazy. Not dreaming isn't an option, it seems. And sometimes Daryl's dreams feel like actual dreams, not the usual screaming-trapped-inside-your-immobilized-body-as-an-ugly-walker-chewing-up-your-mommy-and-daddy.

Daryl dreams about when he was a child. He dreams about the time he was six and his dad taught him how to ride his bike and his mom took care of his bruised knee after he fell after trying to ride it for the first time without the training wheels. In his dream, instead of laughing at him, Merle helps him up and offers him a pillion ride on his own big bike.

They ride and ride until Daryl isn't able to see the ranch or heard his mom and dad's voice anymore. It's nightfall when they finally reach a cliff, with this gorgeous lake just down the hill. Merle makes a fire and promises to take Daryl to swim and fish the following morning. They have marshmallows for dinner around the fire and they talk about how it would be to just drive around the country and to meet new people, people that would be so different from those at home.

Then they hear a noise coming from the bushes. Merle is up on his feet and he covers Daryl with his body, trying to protect his little brother and Daryl feels glad, but soon Merle lets him see what's going on, because it's just another boy, a bit smaller than the two of them. The kid wears a baseball cap, but Daryl can see that his hair is pitch black and that his eyes are just like from those fighters in the kung-fu movies on TV. Daryl wonders if the kid knows how to fight like that and if he can teach him. Maybe if they become friends, he thinks, and he takes a step forward, offering the kid a marshmallow.

Daryl wakes up when someone in the camp starts to scream from a nightmare of their own.

**oOo**

Glenn loses his stitches on the sixth day and as Daryl cleans the closed wound with what's left of his bourbon he asks if the kid would like to learn how to shoot. Glenn frowns at him for a second, before he says yes.

Daryl doesn't really know why he's doing this, except that it feels like the right thing to do. He had given it a thought or two while the kid spent the last few days recovering from his wound. Although he avoids Glenn's eyes in the days after he jerked him off, Daryl eventually comes to his senses and tells himself it isn't really a big deal. The kid had wanted to get off and he had been injured and Daryl had a pair of good hands and he was just doing him a favor. They're... they're not exactly friends, but they do have something and since Daryl isn't going to _forbid_ the kid to go to the city to get them supplies, at the same time it doesn't feel right to let something bad like that happen to him again. This last time was only a piece of glass, but who knows what might happen next? They can't afford to lose people. At least that's what Daryl thinks when he and Glenn make their way into the woods first thing the next morning.

Once they walk a decent distance, Daryl pulls out his crossbow and hands it over to Glenn. The kid stares at it for a second, and then he cracks up. Daryl frowns because he can't see what is so funny about his crossbow, so he just stares back at Glenn, whose face is suddenly red with choked laughing, tears starting to fall from the corner of his eyes.

"Sorry," breathes Glenn once he gets it under control. "Sorry, it's just, I thought-"

"What?" Daryl snaps. He has this ugly feeling that he's the reason Glenn's laughing and he doesn't like it.

"It's just-" Glenn shakes his head. "Look, I just thought you offered to teach me so we could be alone. I- I'm sorry, I should know by now that you aren't the kind of guy who needs an excuse."

Daryl blinks at Glenn, but yeah, he does see the point. "Some dirty mind you have going in there, kid." He grins and feels strangely relieved once Glenn grins back at him. "Come on, let's do it."

They practice for an entire morning and most of the afternoon. Half of the squirrels they bring back to camp are brought down by Glenn.

**oOo**

Being useful must waken something inside Glenn, because he starts to talk about going down to the city the very next day. Daryl feels this nasty pinch inside his gut once Glenn lets the words out, but he doesn't say a thing. Everyone is gathered around the fire and Lori chooses that exact moment to say they're almost out of salt and canned beans. Shane nods and it sounds like a decision.

Daryl feels angry, because none of them have left the camp since he got there and he and Glenn have to do all the dirty work by themselves. He opens his mouth, knowing he probably will regret it the moment he speaks, but it's already too late.

"I don't think the kid should keep doing this by himself," he says and every pair of eyes snaps back at him, Merle's and Glenn's included. Glenn's mouth is slightly open. "I mean, he could have died the last time and we'd be one man short... besides losin' the supplies," he adds when he notices Merle's deep frown. Glenn's eyes are wide open.

There's a long, awkward silence. It's T-Dog who breaks it.

"You know, the dude is right. Glenn shouldn't go alone," he says and Daryl has to chew on his lip to not reply. This isn't what he had in mind. He wanted _other_ people to volunteer to do this too, for a change, or at least to offer to go with Glenn himself without raising any suspicions and he definitely didn't want to have to take the nigger along with them. Daryl opens his mouth to try to say something, but unfortunately Merle has the very same idea.

"You all losin' your goddamn minds if you're thinkin' I'm about to let _you_-" he points a finger at T-Dog, "touch the food I eat."

T-Dog is on his feet in a second. Merle doesn't seem to be bothered, but Daryl spots his brother's rifle lying close by. "Well, I don't see _your_ stupid face doing a thing about that," T-Dog barks and the awkward silence is replaced by a mix of voices yelling at Merle or agreeing with T-Dog or telling T-Dog that it isn't worth it. Shane gets up to put himself between T-Dog and Merle.

Daryl knows that in moments like these he should have his brother's back, but the truth is he feels a little tempted to punch Merle, too, because it's so fucking stupid to say every little thing that comes to mind. It's when Glenn decides to interfere.

"Drop it, both of you," he says and all the voices stop. "I'm not taking _anyone_ if you people behave like this."

Everyone is staring at Glenn now and Daryl knows he can't just announce he wants in without attracting even more attention than he already had, and then T-Dog is nodding and saying Glenn he's sorry and that he's going, too, if Glenn will let him. Daryl swears to himself and looks at Merle, who has a smirk on his face. But once Andrea says she's in as well, his brother says that no one is stopping him from coming along.

In the end, a total of five others volunteer to leave first thing in the morning with Glenn and Daryl hasn't open his mouth since he was the one who started the matter in the first place.

**oOo**

"I'm about to spend a whole day with your brother. Any words of wisdom?"

Daryl stops cleaning his arrows. Glenn has his backpack and he's ready to go. They usually don't do this. Say goodbye. Daryl doesn't like it. It feels like something bad will happen. He's not superstitious, he just has a feeling. Women would call it intuition; Daryl calls it his survival instinct.

He blinks when he realizes Glenn hasn't moved. He's actually waiting for an answer.

Daryl sighs. "Just let him talk." He starts cleaning again, although his arrows are already as clean as they will ever get. "And try to keep the nigger away from him."

He's isn't looking up, so he can't see the Glenn's face. Daryl hears his annoyed grunt, though. He looks up. The kid looks like someone has just insulted his own mother.

"What?" Daryl shrugs. "You _asked_."

Glenn fumbles with the straps of his backpack, like he's deciding what to say next. Daryl hopes he stays silent. He didn't take that kind of shit from his girlfriends, let alone from some China boy he just let suck his cock every now and then.

"You're not your brother, Daryl."

Daryl blinks at Glenn's words. Hell, he knows it. He _agrees_ with it, even, but it doesn't give Glenn the right to say it aloud. Daryl takes a deep breath and stops what he's doing. Things aren't going to get very far if he acts like this. Better to just get this over with.

"What the fuck do you mean?" Daryl snarls. He wonders if not being like Merle means he's less of a man. He wants to ask if that means that Glenn would like to have his brother shoving his dick into the kid's mouth instead of him. Daryl also knows it's a very cruel thing to think, but he can't help it. But he isn't like his brother, so he _doesn't_ say any of it.

"Just that you're nothing like him," Glenn replies with a small shrug. "You don't have to say things you don't want to, just because he would. We could be your people, too, you know. All of us."

As he says it, Glenn turns his back to leave and Daryl swears under his breath, because he knows the kid is right. It isn't smart to fight the only people in the world that can help you. It isn't smart to call them a nigger, even if it's what they are. Daryl doesn't hate people just because. He doesn't hate _these _people and he definitely doesn't hate Glenn. The kid is right. He's nothing like his brother. He wants them all to get back safe and he doesn't want to let Glenn head out feeling mad at him.

"Wait-" he calls and Glenn stops, though the kid doesn't look back. Daryl can see the rigid line of his shoulders. Glenn is not even a bit happy about their talk either.

Daryl sighs and searches inside his bag until he finds what he's looking for. He had planned to give it to Glenn later, when he got back, maybe after they, they-

_Shit_.

What the hell was he thinking?

"Here," Daryl says and the kid turns. Glenn's eyes grow wider once he sees what Daryl has in his hand because it's Glenn's hat. "Found it earlier, when I was searchin' for one of my arrows. Thought you'd like to have it back."

Glenn doesn't move. He keeps staring from the hat in his hands back to Daryl's face. He touches his right arm, right where Daryl had stitched him up. Daryl watches the corner of his mouth start to twitch. Daryl doesn't know if he wants to hear whatever Glenn is planning to say, so he gets up and puts the hat on Glenn's head, adjusting the fit. For a second or two Daryl gets to feel the softness of his hair. He gets a glimpse of Glenn's eyes before he lets go.

"There you are." Daryl's arms fall along his body. His fingertips itch for the loss, but he just ignores the feeling.

Glenn licks his lips and raises his head to look Daryl in the eye. "Thanks," he says, but he leaves his mouth open for a second and Daryl knows the kid isn't done, though he can't figure out what else is left to say. They hear a voice outside.

"Glenn, Glenn? Man, you in there?"

It's Moralles. They're going to be late leaving camp. Daryl grunts, equal parts annoyed and relieved, as Glenn casts him one last, lingering look, before he sneaks out of the tent.

**oOo**

This has got to be the worst day of his life, Daryl thinks.

And, keeping in mind how shitty the whole world has gotten lately, well, it says something. Not only has he stayed up all night tracking a deer only to watch it get chewed up by a fucking walker, he also has to feel the sensation, the terrible feeling that his brother was dead for the longest fifteen seconds of his life, just so he could learn that Merle was, in fact, left handcuffed on a roof in Atlanta and might end up dead anyway if he didn't get down to the city fast enough.

And it just keeps getting worse.

He didn't really want Glenn to go with them; he's mad and so he kicks the turning wheel to blare the horn. He yells _come on, let's go_ and doesn't meet the kid's eyes. He's mad because Glenn was one of those who left his brother behind. The feeling weakens as they ride to the city and it almost vanishes once Glenn agrees to get Merle first then the guns, even if there's not much left to find, once they reach the top of the building. The kid also doesn't complain about having to carry Merle's severed hand and he seems to feel terribly bad about what happened. Every time Daryl looks at him, the kid's face is covered in shame.

In the end, Glenn is also the one who comes up with the plan to get the guns so they can go out looking for his brother. Daryl doesn't know if Glenn is doing this for him, for that Rick Grimes fellow or for himself, so when the kid says Daryl is coming along with him, Daryl can't help asking him why. He has to admit the kid had showed some courage, though, and he even feels like forgiving him for leaving his brother behind- but then those bastards appear out of nowhere, kick him to ground, grab the kid and take off.

Even now, as they try to make the douchebag who didn't manage to escape spit out something useful, he can't turn off the sound of Glenn shouting out his name. It lingers against his skin and stings every time Daryl closes his eyes. The kid had _begged_ for him and Daryl just wasn't fast enough.

He tries to keep his head cool, though. They're at a loss, but they have the guns. The smartest move would be to end that fucking deadweight Rick's trying to make cooperate and then make their way back to the camp. He doesn't want to leave the kid behind, but who can guarantee they can get him back, even if they hand over the guns? What would they really be gambling with? The guns? Their own lives?

Both?

Rick won't hear it, though. This man, a man who only knew the kid for one day, this man is willing to risk his life, the safety of his own family, all for Glenn. Daryl can't help it. He feels ashamed of himself. He feels like covering his face like Glenn did when Daryl called them sorry pricks for leaving his brother behind. He remembers what Glenn said back at the camp, before he went down to the city with Merle and the others.

_We could be your people_, the kid had said.

And one of the last things Daryl had said to him was that Daryl didn't even like him much. He didn't mean that, of course, and deep, deep down he thinks Glenn understands. Daryl hopes he does, because the truth is...Merle could be dead by now. His brother might have passed out in some dirty alley and been eaten by a bunch of geeks. And Daryl will have no one. He will be just like Glenn.

Everybody wants to have somebody come back for them. And Daryl knows, and he hates himself for knowing it, that Glenn would do it for him without even blinking an eye. He did it for a complete stranger, didn't he? Glenn sure would do that for someone he considered _his _people.

And Daryl doesn't know what to say when they find out the kid is okay.

He doesn't know if he's even _allowed_ to say anything. The only thing he does is to get Glenn's shirt, the shirt he had grabbed back in the alley, before they got attacked, and hand it to the kid. Glenn stares at it for a minute and sighs audibly before putting the shirt on. He doesn't say thanks, but Daryl thinks it is okay. Glenn is probably just tired. Daryl's also tired, and glad Glenn's safe.

After that, Daryl doesn't really think about his brother until they make their way to where they parked the van, too worried about the guns and ammo left behind, but once they find the empty spot and Rick vocalizes his thoughts, Daryl realizes what Merle might do to the camp. He also thinks that they can handle Merle, yes, if they stick together. His brother might be the toughest asshole Daryl knows, but he's also one hand short and he lost a lot of blood and, and- Daryl and the others are in this_ together_. He's still mad about what they did to his brother, but he _knows_ his brother and Daryl knows they probably did what was necessary when they left him on that roof. He doesn't like it, sure thing he doesn't, but he does understand it. They have to do what's necessary _now_, too.

When the day started, Daryl didn't plan to end it thinking about how to stop his own brother from hurting the people he never wanted to call _his_. But that's all he can think about as they run up the mountain, night falling around them, his crossbow against his back, a shotgun solid in his hands. He glances at Glenn, only a few steps ahead, and knows that he has the kid's back this time. Daryl decides he won't fail him again. He won't have to, he knows. He hopes he won't have to, at least. Maybe Merle went somewhere else. Maybe they'll be okay.

This fucking day can't get any worse, after all, right. It just can't.

Until he hears the shouting and the screaming coming from the camp.

**oOo**

Everybody's pretty shaken after the attack, so Daryl doesn't really expect to see anyone down there, when he reaches the quarry later that afternoon. He had spent the entire day hitting, dragging, burning and burying corpses and he feels impossibly tired, dirty and maybe just a bit sick. He needs a moment or two.

As Daryl takes off his shirt and pants and steps into the water, he becomes very aware of every single muscle on his body, muscles he didn't even know existed. The water is sharply cold and he has to fight to stay in. All he can think about is washing the blood and grease from his body, grabbing something to eat and getting some sleep so they can leave this hellhole in the morning.

But he can't fight a smile once he overhears a noise.

Daryl knows that noise. He has missed that noise. He hasn't thought about the noise for the last days, but now, now he's so freaking pleased the noise is back. It's been only a few days since they jerked each other off in Glenn's tent, but the world went to hell and back since then. A lot has changed. They have changed.

And maybe, only maybe, it is time for them to talk about it.

"Seems you beat me," Glenn says, his hands fumbling with his faded black t-shirt. He obviously wants to wash the blood and grease off as well. Daryl can see the sweat marks on his arms and neck, all small, irregular lines carved over dark soot.

"Come on in," he invites. "Water's warm."

Glenn chews on his bottom lip and Daryl waits. Eventually the kid makes up his mind and Daryl watches as he takes off his hat, t-shirt, and then his red sneakers, socks and pants. Glenn keeps his underwear on, though. It's the first time Daryl has seen the kid without his clothes on, he realizes, not matter how many blowjobs he has gotten from him. He notices how firm Glenn's body is and the way his skin is slightly tanned. Daryl doesn't think he's attractive or anything, but he realizes he doesn't dislike the view, either.

Maybe he's just glad Glenn is there. Maybe he's happy he's not alone.

Glenn makes a face once he steps into the water. "Warm my ass," he hisses through his clenched teeth. "Man, I think I just froze my balls off."

"It's not _that_ cold." Daryl smirks back. "Come on, little man, you get used to it."

Glenn doesn't reply. Slowly, he starts to clean his arms and chest; he ducks to wash his hair, and rises up between very perceptible shivers. "_Fuck_," he says, but he's smiling a bit this time. Daryl glances around to make sure they're alone, before he moves towards Glenn. He clears his throat.

"So," Daryl starts and Glenn looks up at him, his hair dripping, his lips turning blue. For a second, Daryl thinks about holding him. He shakes his head instead. "You're Korean."

They stare at each other for awhile, until the kid starts to laugh. _Hard_. Glenn laughs until tears- _actual _tears start to form at the corner of his eyes. Glenn laughs so hard he has to brace himself against some rocks by the bank so he won't swallow water.

Daryl freezes in place. He doesn't know what's so funny about what he just said, but it seems Glenn is having some kind of nervous breakdown and Daryl doesn't blame him, not after all they have been through, but he also doesn't know what to do about it. In movies, people usually slap the one who's having an 'episode', but he doesn't really feel like hitting Glenn, so he just grabs the kid by his shoulders and gives him a vigorous shake.

"Kid-" Daryl calls out, but Glenn won't stop laughing. He even tries to disentangle himself from Daryl's grip, his laughs turning into coughs, then into desperate gasps for air. "Come on, man, that's enough," Daryl urges as he reconsiders the slapping thing. "Damn, Glenn, _stop it_!"

And Daryl doesn't know if it is the use of the kid's name, but Glenn does stop. He takes a deep, long breath and squeezes his eyes shut for a second, before he looks up and stares back at Daryl. It's only then that Daryl notices they have pressed their bodies together as he had tried to keep the kid from hurting/drowning himself. He can feel Glenn's firm body against his own. He still has his hands grabbing Glenn's shoulders and Daryl has never seen his lips so close before. Daryl has never wondered about what they would taste like-

Oh, _fuck_.

It's a very good thing the water is this cold.

"Sorry," Glenn blurts out, his breathing slowing down. "I-I am sorry, sorry."

Daryl wonders if he should just let the kid go, but he can't bring himself to do that. Not now. It has been a really long day.

"It's okay, kid," he replies, but Glenn makes a face. A very serious looking face. Daryl frowns, puzzled.

"No, it's not. I-" Glenn sighs, avoiding Daryl's eyes. "I _yelled_ at you." He looks positively miserable now. "You know, back there, at the camp."

Daryl can't help gaping a little. He didn't expect that. "Er," he manages after a few seconds. "It's okay?"

Glenn starts to chew on his bottom lip again and Daryl realizes that probably wasn't the answer the kid was looking for, but he doesn't really know what else he can say.

"Look-" Daryl says, taking one of his hands off the kid's shoulder and running it over his own wet hair. "It's not a big deal, right? I must have done the same thing to you, like, I don't know, a _hundred_ times?"

The kid gazes at him for a few seconds, looking really serious. He blinks before he starts to shake his head.

"No, you haven't," Glenn points out.

Daryl opens his mouth to protest, but he stops before he can say anything. The kid has a fair point. Daryl remembers the day before, when they had searched for Merle, and found nothing but an open fire and burned skin. Daryl had snapped back at Rick and T-Dog, but not at Glenn, personally. To Glenn he had just spoken normally, his voice even, his tone quiet. To the others he had raised his voice and lost his temper for a second or two. Even earlier that day, as the kid yelled at him over the dead bodies, Daryl only started to complain once the kid wasn't around anymore and when he yelled, he wasn't really yelling at the kid, just at nobody in particular. It seems he can't get mad at Glenn. Maybe he should, but he just doesn't. Daryl blinks, too. He wonders what the hell that means.

"I see," Daryl breathes, eventually. He cracks a small smile. "But it's still okay."

Glenn sighs and nods, his shoulders dropping a bit, like he's relaxing. Daryl, without thinking, takes the opportunity to slide a hand over the kid's face, his right thumb only an inch away from Glenn's mouth. Glenn's eyes go wider. They stare at each other and Daryl feels his face go hot, regardless of the cold water.

If Glenn was a girl Daryl knew he wouldn't have hesitated. And even if Daryl has no idea what's going on in the kid's head, he wonders if Glenn feels the same way, because the kid stays still, too, just looking back at Daryl. Waiting. They both just stay still. Daryl wants and doesn't want to move at the same time. Because doing nothing is actually doing _something_. You're letting someone else take the lead and decide what's best for you.

And Daryl almost regrets doing nothing the minute he feels Glenn's hands grabbing his ass, pulling him closer, pressing their groins together under the cold water. Daryl lets a small moan escape, but he doesn't try to stop the kid. Glenn's face doesn't change as he moves, though his lips have parted a little. He touches Daryl's thumb with the tip of his tongue and Daryl feels his heart speeding up as he shoves his finger inside Glenn's mouth so he can keep himself from kissing the kid, because he knows that in that _precise_ moment, he couldn't care less if Glenn was a guy. Or Korean.

And Glenn's mouth feels so good around his thumb, warm and wet, and Glenn's body feels so solid and willing under his. Daryl pushes him against the rocks harder, trying to get a little more friction, feeling his whole body ready to boil. He wants to feel Glenn's mouth on his cock, he wants to, to-

_Jesus_.

Once it hits him, Daryl stops moving immediately. Of course he has thought about it, but he never really imagined they could get this far. All alone and shaken and wet. The same thought must occur to Glenn, because he stops sucking on Daryl's thumb and stares back, his eyes wide open, once Daryl has frozen up. Grabbing Daryl's wrist, he swallows his index finger along with his thumb and starts to suck them, and that must be the dirtiest and hottest thing Daryl's ever seen. It strikes right at his cock, his blood running down so fast he feels lightheaded.

Daryl clears his throat and takes a breath. He knows that this should be the last place, not to the mention the last freaking occasion, for them to do it. On the other hand, they might be attacked and killed on their way to the CDC and it wouldn't really matter in the end, would it? But they had spent the entire morning and afternoon burning and burying people for Christ's sake...

Just the thought of shoving the kid against that rock and fucking him senseless should be considered a capital crime.

"Da_ryl_-" but once Daryl hears it, once he hears the kid calling his name, saying his name like that, Daryl knows he's not going anywhere.

He takes his fingers out of the kid's mouth and uses both of his hands to grab Glenn by his waist, pulling him up a little, so now the water is only to their knees. But Daryl knows he doesn't want the kid looking at him with those swollen lips, calling out his name once they start, so he flips him over, Glenn holding the rock beneath him for dear life, pressing his face against it. There are red marks all over the kid's back, from Daryl pushing him harder against that same rock.

That's it,Daryl thinks, but he does stop. His hands are only a few inches away from Glenn's ass and all he has to do is roll down the kid's underwear and get it over with. But he stops because he _has _to stop and has to do this right, because he has done a lot of shit without thinking shit through and it's not like he's going to chicken out now, but he doesn't want to hurt the kid, so he has to take it as slow as they can.

Daryl takes a few deep and long breathes, feeling a cold breeze from the water caress his skin, and only then does he grab Glenn's underwear and drag it down his thighs. Glenn helps him, lifting a leg and then the other until they're both free. Daryl watches when the kid shifts a bit under his fingertips, spreading his legs open.

He wonders if Glenn has done this before. He's never really thought about it, but Glenn had a life before the world ended, and he could have had a boyfriend who used to fuck him. Daryl has only ever thought about using Glenn's hands and mouth for his own relief, but the truth is, it cuts both ways. Glenn probably misses it and likes having Daryl give him what he wants, too. Nobody's a victim here; nobody's getting hurt or being fooled. They both know what they're doing.

They both _want_ it.

It will be alright, Daryl thinks, as he finally pulls out his own cock, spits on his hand and starts to stroke himself, making it harder and slippery. He does it for a few seconds, until he knows he can't hold it for too much longer and spits on his palm again, just to be safe. Daryl sees Glenn's shoulders tense up once he forces the tip against his asshole and then he does something he never thought he would ever want to: he presses a kiss to the back of Glenn's neck, like he's saying it's okay- it's okay and _yeah_, Glenn definitely must have done this before, because he just nods, like he understands it, and Daryl feels him relaxing a little.

He grinds his teeth as he pushes his cock inch by inch into Glenn. Daryl squeezes his eyes shut and grabs the kid's waist harder, trying to control himself, trying not to shove in too fast. His ass feels warm and so fucking tight and _God_, it feels so good. He pauses for a second once he's buried deep and he kisses Glenn's neck one more time. Daryl doesn't know exactly what causes the kid to moan after that, but it is a very nice moan. He grins and pulls out a bit, before pushing back in. Glenn squirms under his weight, probably looking for a better angle, but all Daryl can think about now is to keep thrusting and trying to breathe in the meantime. Eventually, the only thing that keeps Daryl from moaning along with Glenn is biting the kid's shoulder as he fucks him harder and faster.

Daryl has no idea how long it takes for him to come, but once he does, he falls over Glenn's back, his body heavy and aware of all of his aching muscles from an entire morning and afternoon burning and burying. Daryl props himself up and turns Glenn over, so they're facing each other. The kid's face is red and his lips are bitten. Daryl looks down and notices the kid hasn't come yet and he grabs Glenn's dick without even thinking. It takes only three or four pulls for Glenn to finish all over his own stomach and Daryl's hand. Glenn bites down his moans and Daryl has to fight the urge to stroke his face.

He washes his hand on the water, instead.

Glenn's still panting hard when Daryl looks back at him. He's chewing on his bottom lip. Daryl suspects the kid wants to say something.

"You okay?" Daryl asks with a frown. For a second, he's sick worried. He might have hurt the kid or something.

Glenn nods and Daryl lets out his breath. "You know-" the kid huffs softly. He looks deep in Daryl's eyes and then he smiles. "I don't even like you much, too."

**oOo**

Daryl has a lot of time to think as they drive to the CDC the next morning. He had gotten used to riding along with Merle, talking about bikes, women. Their folks back home. Now that he's alone, Daryl just keeps his eyes on the road and he _thinks_.

He thinks about his brother, of course. He wonders if Merle is still alive. Something tells Daryl he is. And he doesn't know what he'd say to his brother if he ever looks in his eyes again. He doesn't even know if he _wants_ to. Because Daryl had made a choice, sort of, back then, and he knows that. He chose these people. He knows he could have taken a rifle and ammo and driven away looking for Merle and what he chose to do, after they got back to the camp, was to burn geeks and bury his people. He didn't have to. He didn't fucking have to. But he did choose to clean himself at the quarry and he chose to feel glad once he overheard Glenn and they, _they_-

He really tries not to think about what they did. The world had ended and his brother was left for dead and he's alone and- _shit_. Daryl sighs as he taps against the wheel. The truth is he's not completely alone, even if that's what he should be. He _doesn't_ feel alone. And, well, maybe he's thinking too much, maybe...

Maybe Glenn would have liked to ride along with him, he thinks. He just can't help it.

Maybe if Daryl had even asked him, of course. Because he didn't have to feel or be alone as they drive towards what might well be their last hope. He and the kid didn't even have to talk. They didn't have to talk about what they did down at the quarry as the rest of the camp mourned family and friends. About what they have been doing for almost two months now...

They just- they _didn't_ have to be alone. The world was tough enough as it is.

Daryl thinks if, _if_ they make it through this drive, he really should talk to the kid. Maybe he will ask about what Glenn did before all this. Besides delivering pizzas, that is. And maybe, if the kid wants to hear about it, Daryl can even tell him something about himself; though he doesn't have the slightest clue what anyone would want to know about him.

Truth is, Daryl hasn't done much with his life so far.

He had a dog named Clint who was hit by a truck when he was seven. He worked at the ranch with his dad every single day after he turned nine. He took care of two horses and six pigs and four cows and for a little while he thought about someday becoming a veterinarian. He forgot that dream as soon as he got his crossbow and bagged his first deer on his twelfth birthday. He held his mom's hand as they waited at the police station when Merle was locked up for the first time, caught in a bar fight. Daryl had been thirteen. Daryl avoided his mom's eyes when he himself was released after being caught drunk driving. He had been fourteen.

He'd lost his virginity to his first girlfriend at sixteen. The whole time she had thought that it wasn't his first time, too. He broke up with her two weeks later and he felt like a dick. He had only a couple of girlfriends after that. They lasted two, three months, tops. He never told any of them he loved them, though he thinks he really did, at least for awhile. He finished high school, but he never went to college. His grades weren't good enough and there wasn't really any money to spend on him. He pretended he didn't care and maybe, maybe he really hadn't.

Daryl broke his brother free from jail the day after his folks died from a massive walker attack. Things had already started to fall apart then, so no one had really tried to stop him. It was during the earliest days, when nobody knew the first thing about what was happening. When nobody knew they should put a bullet, a blade, an arrow, _anything_ into the head of their former loved ones in order to save the loved ones who were left.

He had wondered, back then, if he had done the right thing, setting his brother free. Maybe he hadn't missed Merle that much, then... maybe he just hadn't wanted to be alone as the world crumbled around him. Even now, he doesn't really know. It feels wrong, actually, to think about it.

He probably wouldn't tell Glenn that, though.

**oOo**

Daryl doesn't try to talk to the kid once they park outside the CDC. He busies himself watching his back, though. He watches as the kid keeps his arm over his face, trying to block out some of the smell from the rotting bodies. He feels Glenn's presence by his side on the elevator; he observes the kid pressing his eyes shut when the needle pierces his arm, as the doc dries his blood out.

And awhile later as they dine and drink, Daryl wonders if Glenn is doing his own share of thinking along the way as well. Because the kid sits apart from the rest of them and he doesn't say a thing for a really long time. Glenn used to be friendlier than this. Maybe he is upset about leaving Jim behind. Hell, even Daryl had asked himself if they had done the right thing. Or if doing the right thing would come back to bite them in their asses later.

He watches as the kid eats, as he grabs a bottle of wine and stares at it for ages, like Glenn's trying to decide if it's a smart move or not. Daryl doesn't go any closer. He overhears all the talking at the table and he truly envies those who can focus on the small things, like whether they should let the little kid drink a bit. Daryl can't help wondering if Merle has something to eat and drink that night, too. There's a bitter taste in his throat and he swallows it down with a gulp of wine. He teases Glenn just to have an excuse to shut down that inner voice clouding his evening, his worry about Merle. He keeps drinking until he has opened a second bottle.

Daryl has never had to resort to liquid courage before, when he worked up his nerve to talk to a girl, but it's very true that he feels a little bit braver after finishing that second bottle when he takes off his clothes and opens the door to Glenn' shower box half an hour later.

It takes a second or two for the kid to realize he isn't alone anymore and Daryl bites down a laugh as Glenn's eyes go wide for a moment, his mouth hanging open. But Daryl knows he's welcome and he knows Glenn must be feeling a little braver thanks to the wine as well, when the kid's lips turn up into an easy smile and he raises his arm to change the shower's temperature – _hot_ to _warm_ – so the water won't get cold and they won't have to hurry.

Glenn is immediately on his knees and Daryl feels his back being pressed against the misted glass. He closes his eyes and lets himself be handled by Glenn's fingers and lips. Daryl closes his eyes and tries to just enjoy all the little sensations, wet and warm. The pressure and softness of Glenn's lips around his cock, his gentle fingertips stroking his balls and inner thighs.

It doesn't take long for Daryl to get hard and his chest is on fire and he blinks at the fog inside the box. He breathes in and reaches for the soap container, pumping some conditioner on his fingertips. Glenn stops sucking and accepts it when Daryl uses his other hand to help him up, so Daryl can lube his own hard cock. He watches as Glenn licks his bottom lip and turns his body, bracing against the opposite wall, his face pressed against the glass, his legs slightly parted. Daryl takes one single deep breath and gets closer. He smells soap on Glenn's skin.

It's easier than it was at the quarry. Glenn's body feels warmer, more relaxed and Daryl's properly lubed cock slides so much better inside him. Daryl grabs the kid's waist to keep a rhythm and touches the back of his neck, licking the water drops away. Daryl tastes his skin. He's glad Glenn left the water running, because the kid's moans are getting louder with each thrust and Daryl doesn't have the heart or even the coherent thought necessary to help him stay quiet.

And it's so nice to hear them, the half-words mingled with incomplete pleas. Daryl increases his thrusts and bites Glenn's neck harder trying to keep himself quiet, a hot burn growing and punching his chest from the inside out.

Daryl digs his fingers into Glenn's skin painfully hard when he comes inside him. They're both panting, their legs a trembling mess. Daryl feels like he has just run a marathon. He disentangles himself from Glenn, resting his back against the wall behind him. He lets his body slide to the wet floor. His head falls back and he shuts his eyes as Glenn rests by his side. They both stay completely silent for several minutes, hearing nothing but the shower running and their own breathing.

Glenn is the first to speak.

"Can I ask you something?"

Daryl opens his eyes. The kid has his back pressed against the glass; his face turned forward, not facing Daryl. He looks down at Glenn's groin, at his soft dick, the trail of come on his thigh and wonders how the kid had finished. Daryl wonders if the kid came still feeling his dick inside him and he feels ashamed and oddly prideful. He blinks when Glenn turns his head and makes eye contact, waiting for an answer.

"Somethin' what?" Daryl shifts his body, defensive. "I ain't going to blow you or anythin'."

Glenn rolls his eyes and Daryl feels instantly stupid. He wonders if he has managed to screw this up for good and wishes he had kept his mouth shut. He doesn't know what to say. Should he apologize? Should he ask what the kid wants after all? Daryl bites the inside of his mouth and any words he could have said die in his throat when Glenn puts a hand on the floor and attempts to rise.

"What-" Daryl starts to say, but he doesn't move. Glenn doesn't look at him.

"Forget it," the kid breathes. "It's nothing, I-"

Daryl doesn't think. "Wait-" He reaches out for Glenn's wrist.

That, plus the slippery floor, sets the kid off balance. Glenn falls on top of Daryl, his legs straddled all over his lap. Their foreheads bump and Daryl bites down a groan as Glenn's weight lands on his left ankle, bent in a strange angle. It's the first time Daryl has his face that close to Glenn's. He can actually see himself reflected in the kid's eyes. He can feel the warm air coming from Glenn's nostrils.

"What-" Daryl tries again, but his voice fails.

Truth is, Daryl already knows what to do. He just doesn't know _why_. The only thing he knows is that, somehow, he wants it. And he feels his heart starting to pump faster as Glenn's breathing gets harder, the tip of his nose nudging against Daryl's. Glenn parts his lips.

"It's okay if-?"

But the kid pauses, giving Daryl a chance to stop him, to go on, to do something- and Daryl just doesn't trust his words. He runs both of his hands over Glenn's legs and up to his back, trying to buy himself some time. He feels how the kid's skin is almost entirely dry. How much time has passed, he wonders. He watches as Glenn licks his lips, but Daryl doesn't reach forward. Ball's in my court, Daryl knows, Daryl freaking knows, but he can't bring himself to take the next step. What if someone walks in? What if someone hears them? If they _see_ them kiss-

"I-" Daryl starts one more time, but he hasn't anything to say. He only understands how ridiculous it is to believe that a kiss can be worse than everything they have already done. "I-"

They both move at the exact same time.

Daryl's right hand reaches the back of Glenn's neck. Glenn's tongue touches Daryl's bottom lip. Daryl holds the kid's face; Glenn presses their mouths together. Daryl closes his eyes and tries to let it go.

It's like being caught in the crossfire.

All the noises eventually fade away, leaving behind only the blood pounding in his ears. He doesn't have to think anymore. Daryl just feels and he reacts. His heart beats hard and fast in his chest, abruptly too big to fit in such a small place. He feels the heat inside him increasing until the point of bursting. He's completely aware of the body against his. A second pair of arms and legs touching, grinding, _wanting_. A second heart pumping faster and harder, threatening to give up as well. Daryl feels Glenn tip his head aside so he can work his way inside his mouth. He senses the kid's damp hair on his fingers. Tastes his wet, warm tongue, his swollen lips. Daryl pulls Glenn impossibly closer. Daryl sucks on Glenn's bottom lip. He fights against the loss of air.

He only stops when Glenn pulls off, panting and grinning like he has just cheated death itself. And Daryl knows how damned he is when he starts smiling back. Then he looks down, so he doesn't have to face Glenn and deal with it.

He notices that both of their cocks are hard again, touching. _Shit_, Daryl has to think, because he knows that it means he's so, so lost. And Glenn laughs quietly and kisses him again, shoving his tongue inside Daryl's mouth. He takes their cocks together in his hand and Daryl lets him. It sends a shiver down his spine and Daryl leans into the kiss, and he kisses the kid back. He grasps the kid's hips with both hands, and pulls him closer, _closer_.

So close that Glenn has to let go of their dicks; he puts his arms around Daryl's shoulders, pulling himself up on his knees. There's no more room between their chests and Daryl feels it when his cock slides free and rubs against Glenn's ass. He opens his eyes and he knows Glenn has felt it too because the kid just stares back at him, their lips barely touching, his breath trying to come out in an aching lungful of air.

Glenn's eyes closing is like a yes.

Daryl fights back the urge to bite Glenn's tongue once the kid sinks onto his cock. _Fuck_, he's _still_ wet, Daryl's brain registers this fact, but can hardly process the information. He has to break the kiss so he can taste Glenn's shoulder, instead. And the kid must have stuffed a fist inside his own mouth, because even though Daryl overhears a muffled moaning sound, he doesn't feel himself being bitten in return. Daryl licks and kisses the spot on the kid's shoulder, shoving and pulling his cock in and out his ass. Daryl puts his mouth on Glenn's earlobe.

He doesn't know where it comes from, but he whispers how good Glenn feels. Daryl tells him he feels so hot, so warm, so tight, so_ fucking wet_ around his cock; he tells Glenn how badly he wants to fuck him until they both can no longer think or breathe and, and, _fuck_!-

Daryl comes faster than he would like, but harder than he thought was possible.

He holds Glenn's shaky body with one arm after, their eyes locked together, his right hand jerking the kid off slowly, slowly. Daryl blinks at the dissipating fog inside the shower box, feels the wrinkled skin on his fingertips. He watches as the kid's eyelids slip closed. He watches as Glenn's lips form what might be the sound of his name.

**oOo**

Daryl dreams that night.

It feels like a dream, at first.

He's in some kind of fancy bathroom, with a Jacuzzi and fluffy white towels with some initials sewn on it. There's a girl with him.

She looks a lot like his last girlfriend; her porcelain white skin soaped up, the Japanese letter for "love" tattooed in red ink on her right shoulder. Everything is there, except that her hair is dyed black, and Suzy had been blonde all her life.

She's now giggling and waggling her fingertips at him, calling for Daryl to join her in the tub.

Suddenly, Daryl has a sick feeling about this.

Somehow, he knows he should zip up his pants (when had he opened them?) and get the hell out of there. He doesn't do it. He feels himself smiling against his will and he walks towards her. He can't see her features, the black hair like a silky curtain around her face. He wonders how soft it will feel against his fingers.

The water is icy cold against his toes, then his ankles and knees. He shivers as he sits on the tub, Suzy between his legs, her black hair glued against his chest. Her body feels cold, too, but so would anyone's if they had been in the water for awhile. He holds her; he drags her hair out of the way so he can kiss her shoulder, over the Japanese letter. He closes his eyes so he can savor it, so he can forget about all the bad things that have happened to him lately. He puts his lips over her porcelain white skin.

It tastes like death.

Daryl's eyes snap open in time for him to see that Suzy has turned into an ugly, rotting walker, her bloody fangs exposed, an old groaning sound coming from the back of her throat.

He wakes up before she can reach for him, a yell for help confined in his lungs.

**oOo**

Daryl doesn't think about the dream after he wakes. He doesn't have the time.

He's the last one to get up and once he reaches the others, eating their breakfast, he doesn't even have the chance to sit. Glenn has his head down, like he's suffering from the hangover of his life and a minute later, the doc is showing them a video and giving them that medical talk which doesn't make any sense and when it finally, finally does, all that Daryl can think about is to drink until he forgets it all, too.

Daryl just can't believe there's nothing left out there. They're supposed to be safe now that they have reached the CDC, with all those computers, and heavy guns and powdered food. Safe enough for him to let his guard down and kiss the kid like there's no tomorrow, except, the problem is exactly that. No more tomorrows. And Daryl drinks another shot of vodka, whisky, wine, anything he can put his hands on. He drinks, because what else can he do? Shut himself in his quarters and wait for the drink and the food and the power to run out? He can't face the kid and tell him he doesn't know what to do.

He's frozen in place when the alarm starts to ring, those red numbers counting down to the end of their lives like a spy movie. And he doesn't feel like a hero who can crack this, but somehow Glenn's voice _losing_ it (He just locked us in?), that small sound that rises into absolute despair (He just locked us in!_)_, that, _that_ is what does make Daryl snap. Nothing but a bottle in his hand, he runs toward the man he thought could save them. And then, it doesn't matter that he can't smash those damn doors open, that they're designed to take a rocket, an atomic bomb or whatever. He's got to try. He can't just do nothing. It's not who he is. The children are crying and the women screaming and Glenn has this look on his face that breaks his fucking heart.

And then- then, the door is open and he can't believe there're people who are done fighting, but he knows he can't fight for them, though he waits for them, even so. He waits for his people to make up their minds, for _his_ people to decide if they want to stay behind and blow themselves up while the rest of them bet on what's left of their lives. He waits for like thirty, forty seconds, but once Glenn starts to move behind him, he runs forward, to the exit, to head as far as they can get from this place. They run together.

He doesn't fire a single shot outside, but he goes ahead of Glenn. He beheads a walker to clear their way. And Daryl catches a glimpse of the kid's eyes, like Glenn was just waiting for Daryl to pass by, safe, before he can close the trailer's door.

**oOo**

Daryl's feels the wind on his face.

His truck was left behind after a couple of miles, so they could use the rest of the fuel on a vehicle able to transport a few more people. He couldn't leave the bike behind, though, so now he's riding right in front of them. And he's the one who spots the fancy condo just beside the road, as night starts to fall. He probably wouldn't have been able to see it if he was in his truck and so he starts to believe that maybe, maybe their luck might change a bit.

They thoroughly examine the first two houses to make sure there are no walkers hiding in the basements, and they split up. Dale, Andrea, Shane, Rick, Lori and Carl take the house on the right side of the street, T-Dog, Carol, Sophia, Daryl and Glenn the house on the left. Daryl thinks about how there should have been six on each side, if Jacqui hadn't stayed behind. He had never really talked to her, but she seemed nice and he wonders if she was happy to die like that. She got to choose, at least. That's a luxury that very few people have.

He and T-Dog barricade the front door with a heavy oak cabinet, still filled with encyclopedias so big that one of them almost dislocates his shoulder when it falls off of the shelf. Daryl bites back a groan of pain.

There's still food in the kitchen, oat cookies and canned peaches, and Daryl grabs some and fills a bottle with water before he races up the stairs to the room he's sharing with Glenn. Carol and Sophia have taken the master bedroom, and T-Dog claims the first watch shift on the porch, carrying a thick coat, a blanket and a shotgun with him. They plan to switch every four hours and to make a sign with a flashlight to the front house. If the other team fails to respond, everyone will wake up to make sure everyone else is okay.

Glenn has set up a kind of bed for them. The place was once a children's bedroom, probably of two brothers, their beds covered with Batman and Superman sheets. Daryl can't help thinking about Merle, but he's persuaded to take his mind off of it when Glenn relieves him of the cookies and peaches and brushes against his sore shoulder. He tries to hide the pain, but something must show in his face, because the kid frowns and asks if he's okay.

"It's nothing," Daryl says, but once he tries to reach for the water the pain stings and he almost drops it. "_Shit_."

"It's definitely _not_ nothing." Glenn gets closer. There're only two candles illuminating the entire room. The power probably cut out weeks earlier. "How did you hurt yourself?" he asks, taking the water from Daryl's grip.

"It's just a stupid book." Daryl winces. "It hit me right on my shoulder, that's all."

"I see." Glenn starts to pull up the hem of Daryl's shirt and Daryl's voice dies in his throat, but Glenn doesn't do anything after he removes it besides take a better look at his shoulder. "Does it hurt when I do this?"

Glenn touches an area close to Daryl's neck.

"Nope."

"And this?"

Daryl shakes his head again.

"Okay." More touching and, then-

"_Fuck_!" Daryl hisses before he can't stop himself. "Fuck, man, don't do that."

"Sorry." Glenn chews on his lower lip, but he doesn't take his hand away. "But it's okay, it isn't dislocated, I think it's just a pinched muscle, I-" He looks at the bed he has set up using two mattresses, between the two single beds, so they can get extra protection from the cold. "Lie here, on your stomach, I can help."

Daryl gives him a look, but he doesn't ask. He does as he is told. He kneels on the soft mattress and thinks that this is the first time in months he will be sleeping in a bed. Even at the CDC he had taken a couch, too tired to set up a comforter. The pillows are cool against his stubble when he buries his face in them. The next second, Daryl feels the heat of Glenn's body, as the kid straddles his legs.

"What-"

"_Shhh_-" Glenn puts both hands over his naked shoulders and lowers his head so he can whispers in Daryl's ear. "Relax, I got this."

And he so does.

Daryl doesn't know why, but he does exactly as the kid tells him. He lifts an arm above his head, and he lets Glenn run his fingers over his muscles and stroke them until he doesn't feel it hurt every time he moves. Even after he tells Glenn it is fine, the kid doesn't stop and he rubs Daryl's back using his elbows and it's then that Daryl realizes how tense he has been, because when Glenn says he's done, Daryl feels like he could sleep for days.

"Jesus, kid," Daryl grins, straightening up. "I thought you said you delivered pizzas... not gave Chinese massages."

Glenn rolls his eyes at him. "I think you meant Thai."

"Whatever," Daryl says, but he's smiling. "Now, seriously, how did you learn it?"

And it must be Daryl's mind playing tricks, but does the kid look... uncomfortable? Daryl wonders if he should change the subject, but it's too late.

"I had this boyfriend, Max," Glenn says. "He worked as a mechanic and he always came home with his back all messed up, so, I-" He lets out a heavy sigh and Daryl shifts. "I guess I just learned my way through it." Glenn shrugs.

Daryl nods, because he doesn't know what to say. But when the kid doesn't say a thing for almost an entire minute, he can't help himself. It's the first time they're having a proper talk and it feels like he should say something.

"Is he... he died, too?"

Glenn looks up at him, like he had forgotten Daryl was even there. Daryl feels something just like the pain in his shoulder, except it is in his chest. He watches as the kid starts to bite on his lower lip again before he shakes his head.

"No, he was, I mean-" He sighs again. "I don't really know. We had a fight just before things got worse, he-"

Daryl holds his breath. He sees Glenn's face darken.

"He kicked me out." Glenn lets out an aborted laugh. "I came home one day and I found him in bed with this other guy and-" He does laugh, this time. A small, strangled kind of laugh. "It was his apartment and he tried to explain, but I couldn't, I- well. I can't say he kicked me out, really. It was _his_ apartment. I just couldn't stay."

Glenn drinks some water before he continues. "So, I sold my car to pay for rent on a new place and I even thought about going back to my parents', because I was making more debts than I could afford, but I was ashamed, you know, and when I finally made up my mind, well- it was too late."

Daryl stares at the kid. He reaches for Glenn's shoulder and holds it.

"I'm sorry," Daryl says and he means it.

Glenn stares back and gives him a tiny smile. It warms up Daryl's chest.

"Thanks, Daryl."

They both stay completely silent after that. Daryl thinks about eating something, but he doesn't feel very hungry. He's tired, actually, but he doesn't want to sleep right now. It doesn't seem right. The kid took all that trouble to make them a bed, so maybe they should-

They should enjoy it a bit.

Glenn understands the second Daryl starts to undo his own belt. The kid blinks at him and pulls his shirt over his head, kneeling on the mattresses so he can manage to get himself out of his pants as well. He's not wearing any underwear and Daryl feels his mouth go dry at the sight. The candlelight makes everything look even more intimate. He doesn't say it, but somehow he knows that Glenn feels it, too.

It's nice to kiss the kid lying on top of him like this. Daryl can get a better angle; he can have full control of what he's doing. Daryl takes Glenn's lower lip between his teeth and he sucks on it for several seconds until he gets Glenn to moan deeply against his lips. He pierces his tongue inside the kid's mouth and presses it against his, feeling its heat, its softness, its need.

He grabs a handful of black hair and drags the kid closer; Daryl presses their lower bodies together, he feels Glenn's dick against his thigh and this time he doesn't try to turn his body away, he urges himself over Glenn, he makes him harder.

And as they stare at each other, both panting and shaking, Glenn parts his legs, hauling Daryl between them. Daryl grinds his teeth, he holds himself steady, because even though there's nothing he would like more than to sink into Glenn's body, he knows he would hurt him, doesn't matter that they have already done this before.

Daryl rises and reaches for his bag, from which he rescues an open bottle of shaving cream. It's not ideal, but it's definitely better than spit or, well, _nothing_. Glenn gives him a weak smile when he sees it, but he doesn't say a thing. Daryl pours some of it onto his fingers so he can spread it over his cock.

"Hope this one's okay," he says as he presses the tip against Glenn. The kid blinks and takes in a lungful of air.

"Yeah, yeah- it's okay." Glenn embraces Daryl's waist with his legs, pulling him in. "It's okay."

Daryl has to bite down on his own tongue to prevent himself from moaning aloud. Glenn leans his head aside and presses his face against a pillow.

He doesn't hear anything but ramblings after that. And Daryl thinks about how the kid would react if there were only the two of them in the house. Would Glenn scream and call out Daryl's name? Did he do it for Max, the mechanic? The boyfriend who betrayed him even after the kid took care of him when he came home from work?

By the look on Glenn's face when he talked about the guy, the kid seems to miss him, even now. And Daryl can't help but wonder what it would feel to have sex with Glenn as his boyfriend, what would change. Would the kid enjoy it more, somehow? Would it feel better for Daryl, too? Would the kid call out his name then?

And Daryl only realizes he has started to thrust harder when Glenn lets out a louder moan, quickly muffled by the pillow, as the kid turns his upper body a bit, trying to hide his face and fisting the sheet under him with his left hand. His eyes are shut and his face twisted in something, Daryl can't tell if it's pain or pleasure, but soon the kid's lips are moving again and he's saying something that Daryl just can't decipher.

He wonders if Glenn thinks about his ex-boyfriend when he's with Daryl. And Daryl can't blame him. He ain't a fag. He can't ever be what Glenn probably would expect from a guy. He wouldn't rent an apartment for them, he wouldn't-

Daryl closes his eyes and tries to shut out these thoughts. He is just having a good time, because Daryl _deserves_ it. He's gone through hell lately. He lost his parents, and then his brother. He's almost died, more than one time. He can enjoy having a willing and warm body under his. If he wants, he can even pretend Glenn is one of his ex-girls. He just has to keep his eyes closed and not stop thrusting until he comes.

That's when Daryl overhears it. It starts as a moan trying to penetrate the thoughts he's trying to summon from his life before the world ended. It's such a nice moan and Daryl lowers his head, snapping his hips back and forward, and finally, he recognizes it.

"Daryl- _Daryl_." Glenn's eyes are closed, his lips slightly parted, his chest shifting every time Daryl thrusts harder. "Dar-"

And Daryl remembers a few days back, in Atlanta, when those guys grabbed the kid. He remembers his name being called like it was Glenn's last hope. He remembers how lost and powerless he had felt back then. And he knows now that he would do everything in his power to prevent something like that from happening again. And right now, with his body warm and solid, he feels like he could tell it to the kid without having to say the proper words. Daryl knows he can give Glenn what he wants, what he needs.

And Glenn opens his eyes when Daryl rocks his hips, hitting something inside him that makes the kid yell. They stare at each other for half a second and the next thing Daryl knows, Glenn is pulling him into a breathtaking kiss, the back of the kid's heels digging hard into his back, making him move faster and deeper.

"Glenn," Daryl gasps as they pull back for breath. "Fuck, I-"

"Yes, _yes_- please-" Glenn trails out. "Daryl, please-"

Daryl doesn't know how, but he understands. He forces a hand between their bodies and reaches for Glenn's aching dick. He clutches his fingers around it and starts to pump. The kid's eyelashes slip closed as he throws his head back, his mouth hanging open. And Daryl doesn't stop. He keeps thrusting and pumping and kissing and he ignores the increasing heat of his own body until Glenn is nothing but a trembling mess of limbs, his softened dick loading the last remains over Daryl's hand. He sweeps it on the kid's belly and reaches for his mouth, sticking two fingers inside.

And when Glenn licks him clean that's what it takes for Daryl to come with an undignified moan that he tries to muffle by kissing the kid one last time. It doesn't take long for Daryl to realize what the salty taste on Glenn's tongue is, but the worst part is that it doesn't really make him stop.

Daryl just keeps kissing Glenn until both of their breathing settles down.

**oOo**

Some things change for the better.

From most angles when you look at it, they have never been in a worse situation. They had abandoned the camp, a place that they had called home for awhile. They had lost so many of their own, they had thought they were saved for several blessed hours, only to have that hope blown out of them. They had lost their clothes and guns and they were thrown back onto the road with no food and almost no fuel. They were alive even though the odds were good that they should be dead and that gives them some sort of strength to keep going. But the thing is, the _important_ thing is- they're not alone. Daryl doesn't feel alone. He still wonders where his brother is, but he doesn't feel like there's nothing left for him. There's something.

Daryl turns over and watches Glenn sleeps.

The kid had taken the watch after T-Dog, and then Daryl after him. He has just returned, the sun piercing its way inside the bedroom.

Daryl thinks about what they did just a few hours back and suddenly, suddenly he doesn't feel the need to shut down those thoughts. Daryl thinks it is okay, really. It's nobody's business. He remembers how he had loved his girlfriends, though he never told them that and he knows he doesn't have to feel haunted for his past anymore. The world has changed. Some rules just don't apply any longer. He thinks about how he and Glenn don't really need to talk about whatever this is. And Daryl might not know what exactly he feels for the kid, but he knows he _does_ feel and somehow, somehow it seems just like the right thing to do.

While Daryl was watching the perimeter, he had thought about some other things, practical things. He realizes they can't stay in this condo, for example. The houses have two floors only, which won't exactly give them a good view of the outside and they would be sitting ducks in the case of a massive attack.

So they all will have to wake up, in an hour or two. And they'll pack all the supplies they can find, restock the clothes and blankets lost along the way, collected every single drop of fuel they can extract from the cars parked nearby.

It's probably not much, but enough for them to keep going, for awhile. For as long as they can.

Daryl overhears a muffled sound. He notices Glenn opening his eyes and that he has this small, tired smile on his face. And Daryl can't describe how relieved he feels as he realizes he doesn't have a reason to try to fight his own answering smile.

"Come on, kid," he says. "Let's put some miles behind us."

* * *

><p><strong>Notes:<strong> This was originally posted at my Live Journal (_dana-norram. livejournal 46033. html_). English isn't my native language, so please feel free to make any constructive criticism. ;)


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